


Poison

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cousin Incest, F/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 15:50:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2434382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's always been poison, and he let her infect him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poison

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt at [Humpathon](http://hp-humpdrabbles.livejournal.com/170203.html).

The cell at Azkaban is cold and dank.

Sirius knows he doesn’t belong here, but no one will listen. It doesn’t really matter since Jamie is dead. They’re all gone now. Jamie, Lily, Peter. It’s a living nightmare, and this cell is punishment for every wrong deed he’s ever done in his miserable life. The sound of water dripping down the stone wall creates a cadence, and he imagines he hears Jamie whispering ‘all your fault’ repeatedly in time with the drips.

Sometimes, he hears _her_ laughter, reverberating in his cell as if she’s there with him. He wonders if she’s actually been caught and is nearby or if it’s just more signs of insanity slowly overtaking his mind between visits with the Dementors. If there’s any reason karma would want to bite his arse, it’s her and ever sordid thing he did with his own cousin.

At the darkest hours of the night, with her laughter and screams echoing against the stone, he remembers her dark eyes and warm touch. He thinks about the biting kisses and scratches she always left on his bare skin. He remembers the way her pale skin bruised so easily, the look she’d give him when he made it hurt, and he gets hard despite everything as he imagines the taste of her on his tongue.

Bellatrix represents the worst of every horrible thing he’s ever done. He knew better, even as he let her seduce him with taunts and touches that aroused him _because_ they were wrong. He hates her, has never liked her even when they were children, but he wants her. And she feels the same. He knows she does because he saw it in her eyes. The same addiction, the same need to possess and ruin, the same dark desire that resulted in them fucking in seedy alleys and abandoned warehouses. Him in his Auror robes, her with her Deatheater mask askew.

When he strokes himself at night, frantic and hurried, needing to feel _something_ to combat the sheer loneliness and guilt and quiet of his cell, he loses himself to memories of her wet heat clenching around him, of her teeth scraping against his collarbone, of her nails clawing at his shoulders, of the way her nipples rubbed against his chest, of the salty-sweet of her come on his tongue, of the way she stared at him with an intensity that made him feel as if she owned him and maybe he even had a chance at owning her, too.

She’s poison, has always been, and he willingly tasted her, let her infect him, and he knows he’ll never escape her now. She always said she wanted to break him, wanted to shatter him into so many pieces he’d never be able to put himself back together, and he thinks she’s succeeded. Azkaban is every nightmare come to life, all the good memories ripped from him, leaving him with only memories of Bellatrix and her laughter in the air.

End

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Til I Break You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2603294) by [Dallas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dallas/pseuds/Dallas)




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